John-Ward Leighton

SKATING

that fine edge
no boundaries here
only inconstancies
and fear
ice creaking
tide peaking
the fine line
between genius and inanities
and further insanity
the uneasy feeling that this is all wrong
that everyone else is singing
the wrong song
marching with the wrong throng
where did it say
that this was going to be the day
yesterday, today, tomorrow,
there is only one day
from which we can borrow
and it’s that day we haven’t had
in the grand scheme of things
what was good then that now becomes bad
too near, too far, too little, too much,
looks good but don’t you dare touch
and then it is the past
and only the liars know the truth
the blind man sings the song
but he’s the only one
that knows where it’s gone
now you see it, now you don’t
now you will,
now you won’t,
and it’s not for serious debating
in the white heat of all the noise
you can only hear your own voice
and on that uncertain quaking ice
and the uncertainty of an easy vice
it’s not the time
to be skating.